Michael Estrin's Blog, page 9
March 17, 2024
My stubborn gardener, who probably isn't an assassin
Hey there, situation normies! Many of you asked for a follow-up on The barber who quit acid for Lent. I promise to do my best to find out if her student loans were forgiven, but please keep in mind that Alice isn’t my regular barber, and I don’t get regular haircuts. Stay tuned.
Meantime, I want to give a big shout out to Ed M., who bought an annual Situation Normal subscription, even though Situation Normal stories are free. “My wife and I read your stories every Sunday over brunch,” Ed wrote. “You make us laugh, which puts us in a good mood. Thanks for everything you do!”
You’re welcome, Ed!
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I’ve always thought gardeners would make good assassins. Gardeners are ubiquitous in the San Fernando Valley, so they can hide in plain sight. Their jobs take them to dozens of homes each day. And they carry sharp tools that easily double as weapons; or, if they prefer guns, a leaf blower would mask the noise. But the main advantage of the gardener-assassin is that most people don’t talk to their gardeners, allowing them to come and go without suspicion. Once, I explained my theory to our gardener, Raphael, who told me writers have too much time on their hands. Then, with a laugh that was a little too diabolical, he added, “We would make good assassins.”
I like talking to Raphael, and I’m ninety-nine percent sure he’s not an assassin. So when he knocked on our door this week, I put my work on hold and went outside for a chat.
“We need to talk about the Mexican sage bush,” Raphael said.
“What’s it done now?” I asked.
“It got big.”
“It’s beautiful. We love the purple.”
“It’s killing the thread grass plants next to it, robbing them of their sun.”
“That bastard!”
Raphael laughed at my joke. Did I mention I like our gardener, even if there’s a one percent chance he’s an assassin?
“We can cut the sage back, but it’ll look like we hacked it to pieces until it fills in, then we do it all over again. Or, we let it grow, but it’ll kill the thread grass.”
Murdered thread grass on the one hand, a mutilated Mexican sage plant on the other hand. Both options seemed brutal. I didn’t like either one.
“You choose,” Raphael insisted.
Either way I’d have plant blood on my hands, unless…
“Let me run it by Christina,” I said.
“Smart man.”
With business out of the way, Raphael and shifted gears. He asked about my family, and I told him that things were good. Then I asked about his family.
Raphael’s youngest daughter was pregnant again. His third grandchild was on the way. Happy news! But his other daughter was trying to get pregnant, and it wasn’t going well.
“What do they call it? IVF? Science is amazing, but it doesn’t always work. My daughter is too old. I wanted to tell her, don’t wait. But my wife said, don’t be an idiot.”
“What did you do?”
“I listened to my wife. I’m not an idiot. My wife was right. I held my tongue, and that kept the peace. So I have a good relationship with my daughter. But I was right, too. Life is short. Some things are now or never.”
I knew what Raphael meant. Christina and I chose not to have children. Christina’s parents held their tongues, but I’m sure they disagreed with our choice. My father told me we were making a mistake, then of all things, he blamed our dog, Mortimer, for depriving him of grandchild. My mother just blames us and lays on the guilt whenever she gets the chance. But Christina and I made our choice with eyes wide open. Knowing that we had a limited window, we made it a point to check in regularly. Our decision not to have kids wasn’t a choice, but rather a series of choices we made over the course of hundreds of conversations that spanned a decade. Even then, this was difficult stuff—adulting for keeps, big life decisions with no do-overs.
“That’s rough,” I said. “But you never know. Maybe your daughter will get pregnant.”
“I hope so. Now, my son…”
Raphael grimaced. In the past, Raphael has told me that his relationship with his son is his biggest regret. When he was a teenager, Raphael fled a civil war in El Salvador for the American dream. By his own account, he obtained that dream. He’s a citizen. A small business owner. A grandfather. But the dream didn’t come easy. Without an education or language skills, Raphael worked his butt off night and day to put food on the table.
“He still blames me because I wasn’t there when he was growing up.”
“Have you told him why?” I asked.
“I tried to, but it never comes out right.”
“Maybe you’re bitter. You worked hard for him, but he can’t appreciate your sacrifice.”
“Yes, I think that’s it.”
“Why don’t you try and tell him again?”
“He’s too stubborn to listen. And maybe I’m too stubborn to apologize. What do they say? The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
“So you’re both stubborn. Like father, like son.”
“We’re both stubborn. But he started it.”
“You sound like a kid,” I teased. “He started it.”
My comment would’ve been a risky one if Raphael was an assassin. Thankfully, he’s just a chatty gardener.
“I know, I know. It’s like he knows how to push my buttons.”
“Of course he does,” I said. “Kids are designed to test us. I have a friend, great guy, but he’s really stubborn. Guess what? His kid is the most stubborn kid I’ve ever met. Drives him nuts.”
“It’s a test.”
“Exactly. We make these tests for ourselves, but we know our weaknesses, so kids are the only test we can’t pass.”
“Is this why you don’t have kids?” Raphael asked. “You don’t like tests?”
“Actually, I test well. And I like kids. But I prefer being an uncle and a godfather.”
“Good choice.”
“Don’t worry,” I said. “Someone is going to come along and test your son. Then maybe he’ll get it, and you two can talk.”
“That’s why I’m worried,” Raphael said. “He’s not stupid enough to have kids.”
Thank you for reading Situation Normal! If you enjoyed this story, please help me out by sharing it with everyone you know.
Did you know you can hire me?True story! I’m an award-winning journalist (B2B & B2C, print & digital). I’ve helped hundreds of business leaders tell their stories. If you need storytelling help, hit me up. I’d love to jump on a Zoom with you for a free consultation!
You can learn more about my services by subscribing to Thought Partner, a free newsletter where I share what I know about thought leadership and business storytelling. You can also connect on LinkedIn, or email me at michael.j.estrin@gmail.com. Let’s talk!
Want more Michael Estrin stories? I’ve got books!Ride/Share: Micro Stories of Soul, Wit and Wisdom from the Backseat is a collection of my Lyft driver stories🚗🗣
Not Safe for Work is an amateur detective novel based on my experiences covering the adult entertainment industry💋🍑🍆🕵️♂️
The ebook versions of my books are priced between 99 cents and $2.99, so if you don’t have the budget for a Situation Normal subscription, buying an ebook is a great way to support my work. Bonus: you’ll laugh your butt off!
Stick around and chat!You know the drill. I’ve got questions, you’ve got answers.
Should we mutilate the Mexican sage bush, or murder the thread grass? Wrong answers only!
Would gardeners would make good assassins, or do I have too much time on my hands?
Why are kids so good at testing us?
Are you a parent? Explain yourself.
Are you child-free? Explain yourself.
Mortimer gets booped
March 10, 2024
The barber who quit acid for Lent
I love talking to barbers, but I hate getting haircuts. It’s a minor paradox in my life, but unlike my curls, I’ve never bothered to untangle it. Point is, I got my first haircut of 2024. The results were good, but the conversation was better.
“You got a real Jerry Garcia vibe,” the barber said. “Great hair.”
My barber was Alice. She had a raspy smoker’s voice. Her hair color was somewhere between a ruby and a carrot. A gold cross dangled from her neck.
“Thanks! I need it to be more Francis Ford Coppola, but not Apocalypse Now Coppola. Too wild. Think: Godfather Coppola.”
“Great flicks. You a writer?”
“Yeah, but not that kind of writer.”
“What do you write?”
“Whatever my clients need. Plus, a humor newsletter. And novels.”
“Novels? Any chance you write historical romance? I love that stuff.”
“I wish. There’s good money in old flames.”
“I listen to the audiobooks. I know that’s cheating, but I can’t help it. I’m probably dyslexic. Back when I was in school they just said you were slow.”
“Audiobooks aren’t cheating. They’re just another way to access the story. I’ll bet you listen to way more audiobooks in a year than what you used to read.”
“Oh yeah. I used to read one book every decade. Now, I listen to fifty books a year.”
“Be proud of that. You’re a book person now. You’re supporting writers. That’s a good thing.”
Alice stopped cutting my hair, put her hands on her hips, and found my eyes in the mirror.
“You got a way of reframing things. I like that. My friend wanted me to give up audiobooks for Lent. Because of all the sex scenes. I like it spicy. But I also like learning about history. Is that wrong?”
“No. It’s great. If people didn’t have sex, history would be a very short story.”
Alice laughed, then went back to cutting my hair.
“I gave up smoking instead. Cold turkey. It started out rough, but I feel better now. I can breathe.”
“That’s awesome. I’m proud of you. What did your friend give up for Lent?”
“Triscuits.”
“Triscuits? That’s bullshit. I gave up Triscuits in the nineties because they suck.”
“I know! I told him to give up margaritas.”
“Better. But margaritas leaves a lot loopholes. He could just drink a beer.”
“I always try to give up something tough. Like one year, I quit dropping acid. That was tough. I loved acid. But it was for the best. I was out of my mind on acid, sitting in a parked car, when a cop knocked on the window.”
“Yikes.”
“I had to talk to him for like twenty minutes, but it felt like an eternity. The sun was setting behind him. Beautiful Los Angeles sunset. Orange and red because of the smog and the dust. I would’ve enjoyed the sunset, but the cop… bad vibes.”
“What happened?”
“The cop’s face kept melting, like his head was made out of Velveeta cheese.”
“Did you get arrested?”
“No, no. I just told him I was enjoying the sunset, listening to the radio in my car, because my stereo had been stolen. That was actually true. Someone had broken into my apartment and stolen my stereo. Probably to buy drugs.”
“But you got out of that situation OK?”
“Jesus got me out of it. That’s why I promised him I’d quit acid for Lent. That was back in the eighties, and I haven’t done acid since. Although, sometimes I get flashbacks, which are nice. Is that cheating?”
“I don’t think so. You can’t control those. But maybe you should check with your priest. I’m not a priest.”
“You’re better than my priest. He just makes me feel guilty. You’ve got good answers. I’ll bet you’re one of those people who can solve anything.”
“I dunno. Try me. Tell me your problems.”
“Debt. I owe thirty grand in student loans.”
“What did you study?”
“It was a business program. I got great grades, but they wouldn’t give me a degree because I couldn’t pass the typing class. Who types these days?”
Typing? For a business program? That sounded fishy to me.
“Was it a for-profit school?”
“I dunno.”
“What was the name of the school?”
Alice told me the name. I took out my phone and Googled it. Google confirmed my suspicion: a for-profit college that had gone out of business.
“The whole thing feels like a scam, and I feel like a sucker.”
“You’re not a sucker, but you may be in luck. The Biden administration…”
Alice cut me off.
“I’m not political.”
“That’s OK. There have been news stories about...”
“I don’t watch the news. Too depressing. I need a drink.”
“Me too. But it doesn’t matter. Here’s what matters: Biden might’ve forgiven your loans.”
“Can he do that?”
“That’s a longer question that involves the news. Here’s what you’re going to do, Alice. When you get home, log onto the Department of Education website. It’s possible your loans have been forgiven. But if not, you’re going to call the Department of Education and tell them what you told me. I can’t say for sure, but it sounds like you’re a great candidate for loan forgiveness.”
Alice dropped her scissors.
“You just changed me life,” she said. “Thirty grand. Gone.”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Check with the Department of Education. Promise me you’ll do that.”
“As soon as I get home. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I’d like to give you a free haircut, but… Floyd’s doesn’t let me do that. Store policy.”
“No worries. Render unto Floyd the things that are Floyd’s.”
“I can give you a coupon. Three dollars off your next cut.”
Alice reached into her pocket and handed me a coupon.
“Lousy deal for a miracle worker, huh?”
“That’s OK,” I said. “Like I told you, writing is my business. Miracles are just a side hustle.”
Thank you for reading Situation Normal! This post is public so feel free to share it.
Did you know you can hire me?True story! I’m an award-winning journalist (B2B & B2C, print & digital). I’ve helped hundreds of business leaders tell their stories. If you need storytelling help, hit me up. I’d love to jump on a Zoom with you!
You can learn more about my services at Thought Partner, or connect on LinkedIn. Or, just email me at michael.j.estrin@gmail.com.
More Michael Estrin stories? Two books!Ride/Share: Micro Stories of Soul, Wit and Wisdom from the Backseat is a collection of my Lyft driver stories🚗🗣
Not Safe for Work is a slacker noir novel based on my experiences covering the adult entertainment industry💋🍑🍆🕵️♂️
The ebook versions of my books are priced between 99 cents and $2.99, so if you don’t have the budget for a Situation Normal subscription, buying an ebook is a great way to support my work. Bonus: you’ll laugh your butt off!
Stick around and chat!You know the drill. I’ve got questions, you’ve got answers.
Triscuits are recycled cardboard, right?
What did you give up for Lent? Or, if you’re not Catholic, what’s something you gave up? Dish!
What’s the deal with people who shit on other people for enjoying audiobooks? Speak up!
Are acid flashbacks cheating, or is it all just one long, strange trip?
What if cops really were made of Velveeta cheese? Get weird with it!
Thanks for supporting Situation Normal!Shout to Tim C. for becoming the newest Situation Normal paid subscriber. Support from patrons like Tim help me provide free humor to thousands of situation normies and cover the costs of my miracle worker side hustle. Thank you for your patronage, Tim!
Be like Tim, support Situation Normal! It only takes sixty seconds👇
Or, if you prefer PayPal, send any amount here, and I’ll add you to the list! Remember, all Situation Normal stories are free, except for the annual stakeholder report, where I open the books on my funny business.
Mortimer gave up Velveeta for Lent, and he’s not happy about it.
March 3, 2024
The internet lost its shit over Wendy's 'surge pricing'
I saw the shit hit the fan in the morning while I was scrolling LinkedIn. The LinkedIn algorithm had served me a conversation between two tech bros who were talking about a news story from a foodie website. Wendy’s, the fast food chain, planned to introduce “surge pricing.” Basically, AI would change the price of your hamburger, based on market demand. Tech Bro #1 said it was a “gangsta move,” but Tech Bro #2 disagreed. “It’s a baller move,” he wrote.
“That’s the dumbest fucking thing I’ve ever heard,” Christina said.
“So Wendy’s is dead to you?” I asked.
“I’ll miss the baked potatoes.”
Christina left for work, and I went back to the internet shit show. As it turned out, the tech bros and their praise for greedy business models were out of step with, well, everyone. People on social media dunked on Wendy’s by saying the fast food chain would get a “frosty response.” Others called Wendy’s “trash.” On the Today Show, Hoda slammed Wendy’s. Then the internet surfaced this gem:
Meanwhile, the chill people at Chili’s took advantage with their special blend of empathy and snark.
And the monarchists running Burger King’s social media account played the populist card.
The shit show paired nicely with my morning coffee, but then I remembered that I was on deadline. So I closed my browser, said a silent prayer for the poor bastards on the Wendy’s communications team, and dove into my client’s copy.
By the time lunch rolled around, the Wendy’s story had shifted. Wendy’s was back-peddling. Sort of. The Wendy’s comms team insisted that they’d never used the term “surge pricing.” That was true! But the source of the story had been this statement from the Wendy’s CEO:
[We] will begin testing more enhanced features like dynamic pricing and daypart offerings, along with AI-enabled menu changes and suggestive selling.
Of course, a lot of people pointed out that “dynamic pricing” was a euphemism for “surge pricing.” And predictably, the AI angle only added fuel to the fire. Like everyone else on the internet, I didn’t know who to believe. But I was also hungry. So I took $1 million out of petty cash, just in case the rumors were true, and headed for the nearest Wendy’s.
When I got to Wendy’s, alarm bells went off. Literally. There were only two humans working that shift and both had left the fries unattended. But I didn’t mind waiting while the Wendy’s employees unfucked the fryer and dealt with a horn-happy customer at the drive-thru. The extra time gave me a chance to check the menu.
Everything on the menu looked normal. Well, everything except the Baconator and the Loaded Nacho Cheeseburger. But novelty burgers were beside the point. Like Snoop Dogg, my mind was on my money, and my money was on my mind. I only had a million bucks in my pocket, and according to the internet, that might not be enough for a combo meal.
“What can I get you?” the Wendy’s cashier asked.
“A price lock,” I said.
“Huh?”
“I’d like to lock in the price of a chicken sandwich combo meal,” I explained.
“One chicken sandwich combo meal,” she said. “Anything else?”
“No, no. I don’t want a chicken sandwich combo meal. Not yet, anyway. First, I want to lock in the price for a chicken sandwich combo meal.”
The Wendy’s cashier gave me a blank look, so I explained the price lock concept.
“It’s like with mortgages,” I said. “The rates are always changing, so the price of your mortgage can change a lot between when you put in an offer and when you close. I’m worried that the same thing will happen with my chicken sandwich combo.”
The cashier looked at me like I was on drugs—an occupational hazard when you lean into an absurd premise. So I explained the internet shit show.
“That’s dumb,” she said.
“That’s what my wife said!”
“Your wife is smart. So… do you want the chicken sandwich combo, or not?”
“How much is it?”
The cashier rang up the order. It came out to twelve bucks and change. I reached for my wallet, but hesitated.
“You’ll honor that price?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“I’m not going to get home and discover that there’s a surcharge, am I? I don’t like surprises. Tell me I’m not gonna see a surcharge for twenty million bucks for this chicken sandwich combo.”
“No, sir, that won’t happen.”
“Pinky-swear?”
I stuck out my pinky and reached across the counter, but the cashier didn’t return the gesture. Something about the health code.
“Cash or card, sir?”
Normally, I’d use my card to get the airline miles. But all I had was the cashier’s word. I believed her, but I didn’t trust the surge-pricing enthusiasts at Wendy’s corporate. Better to pay cash, I thought. Keep this chicken sandwich transaction anonymous. So, I handed the cashier a picture of Andrew Jackson, and she handed me lunch.
Sharing this story won’t stop surge-pricing, but it will help me out, so please share Situation Normal, or at the very least, share your fries🍟
Did you know you can hire me?True story! I’m an award-winning journalist (B2B & B2C, print & digital), an op-ed ghostwriter who has helped hundreds of start-ups tell their stories, and a versatile copywriter who kicks ass and triple-checks the spelling of names. My bona fides are on LinkedIn. I recently launched Thought Partner to talk more about how companies and individuals can use thought leadership to make themselves heard over the noise. Maybe my services are what you’ve been looking for, or maybe there’s something else I can help with, such as:
Fresh website copy that makes your professional story sing? ✅
An editorial plan for your newsletter? ✅
A creative project that would benefit from a fresh perspective? ✅
A new bio that will make strangers think you’re interesting? ✅
A menu for your new pizza parlor? 🍕
A ransom note that needs a strong call to action 🚫
If it’s legal and if it falls under the heading of writing / storytelling, I can help. Email me at michael.j.estrin@gmail.com.
More Michael Estrin stories? Two books!Ride/Share: Micro Stories of Soul, Wit and Wisdom from the Backseat is a collection of my Lyft driver stories🚗🗣
Not Safe for Work is a slacker noir novel based on my experiences covering the adult entertainment industry💋🍑🍆🕵️♂️
The ebook versions of my books are priced between 99 cents and $2.99, so if you don’t have the budget for a Situation Normal subscription, buying an ebook is a great way to support my work. Bonus: you’ll laugh your butt off!
Stick around and chat!You know the drill. I’ve got questions, you’ve got answers.
Wendy’s had to know that this would turn into a shit show, right? Explain.
What do you order at Wendy’s? Dish!
If I rolled out surge-pricing by charging more for popular stories, would I make enough money to buy a Wendy’s franchise? Be honest, I can take it.
Why don’t other fast food chains sell baked potatoes? Wrong answers only!
Should I try the Baconator or the Loaded Nacho Cheeseburger and report back?
Thanks for supporting Situation Normal!A quick shout to Marty S. and Jerry G. for becoming the newest Situation Normal paid subscribers. Their support helps me provide free humor to thousands of situation normies and cover the costs of surge-priced chicken sandwich combos. Thank you for your patronage, Marty and Jerry!
To support Situation Normal, please consider upgrading your subscription. It only takes 60 seconds👇
Or, if you prefer PayPal, send any amount here, and I’ll add you to the list! Remember, all Situation Normal stories are free, except for the annual stakeholder report, where I open the books on my funny business.
Mortimer gives me the cold shoulder because I didn’t bring him back a Baconator.
February 25, 2024
The one-day work week
Three-day weekends are glorious, but you pay the price the following week. For one thing, Tuesday feels like Monday, Wednesday feels like Tuesday, and by the time you get to Thursday, the week feels like mush. Also, the abridged week means longer work days because, well, you still have to get shit done (GSD).
On Tuesday morning, I was scrambling to GSD, when I heard a trash truck come thundering down our street. Makes sense, I thought at first, the trash guy also needs to GSD. But then I thought, what’s he doing here on a Monday? Trash day is Tuesday.
I ran to the window. All of our neighbors had their trash cans out for pick-up. Had I missed something?
“Alexa, what day is it?”
I felt silly asking that question, but in times like this I appreciate the little spies Christina has placed around the house. Sure, they harvest our data and sell it to the highest bidder, but they don’t judge you for asking questions like, what day is it?
“It’s Tuesday February 20,” Alexa said. Then she asked if I wanted to know where I could find the nearest donut shop, but I was already out the door and headed for the spot where we store our trash cans.
It was raining—something about an “atmospheric river” parked over Los Angeles—so I got soaked as I lugged the trash cans to the curb. That was the bad news. The good news was that I had managed to GSD in time. Trash day, which is Tuesday, even if it feels like a Monday, had been saved!
Pardon the interruption. Situation Normal is a free publication that reaches nearly 5,000 people, but it runs on the generosity of a handful of patrons who support my work with their money. If you love Situation Normal and want to help me make strangers laugh, please consider upgrading your subscription👇
After my first year of law school, I had a miserable summer job that paid remarkably well. The hours were long, which was fine, but the work was boring. Each day, I’d comb through quarterly reports trying to understand how multinational corporations valued their intellectual property. Like I said, boring. One day blended into the next, and everyday felt like Groundhog Day, except the punchy dialogue had been replaced by legalese, and the story literally went nowhere.
One day that summer, America celebrated its birthday. I was happy for America. I drank a beer, ate a cupcake, and watched the fireworks. I also got the day off because the office was closed. A three-day weekend!
The week following America’s birthday was a short week, just four days. But by the end of the week, I noticed something odd. In only four days, my coworkers and I had churned through the same number of quarterly reports as a normal five-day week. Naturally, I asked my boss if we could shift to a four-day work week. We’d continue to GSD at the same rate, I argued, so why not save everyone from a case of the Mondays?
“Don’t be ridiculous, Estrin.”
I wasn’t being ridiculous, I protested, I was being serious. We weren’t being paid to show our faces at the office, we were being paid to GSD.
“Actually, a four-day work week is bullshit.”
That comment came from Eric, my colleague in the quarterly report mines. I felt betrayed. Did Eric, the guy who always came in late and asked to leave early, really want to work a full week?
“When you think about it, Friday is always a total loss because everyone is thinking about the weekend,” Eric told our boss. “And Monday is a shit show because everyone is recovering from the weekend.”
“Let me get this straight,” our boss began, “Estrin wants a four-day work week, but that won’t fly, so you’re counter-offer is a three-day work week?”
“No,” Eric said. “Tuesday is also rough because I go hard on the weekends, and I can’t fully recover on Monday. Thursday is fine, but it’s so close to Friday that the weekend anticipation bleeds over, so it’s hard to get stuff done on Thursday too.”
“But Wednesday is good?” our boss asked.
“Wednesday is great,” Eric said. “Hump day is crunch day.”
There it was: the one-day work week, also known as the six-day weekend. Could we make it happen? Could we live the dream?
In theory, yes. All we had to do was continue to GSD.
But did it actually happen?
I’m not saying that sharing this post will change the world, but if you don’t share it, there’s no way we’ll ever see a one-day work week. So share it, please!
Did you know you can hire me?True story! I’m an award-winning journalist (B2B & B2C, print & digital), an op-ed ghostwriter who has helped hundreds of start-ups tell their stories, and a versatile copywriter who kicks ass and triple-checks the spelling of names. My bona fides are on LinkedIn. I recently launched Thought Partner to talk more about how companies and individuals can use thought leadership to make themselves heard over the noise. Maybe my services are what you’ve been looking for, or maybe there’s something else I can help with, such as:
Fresh website copy that makes your professional story sing? ✅
An editorial plan for your newsletter? ✅
A creative project that would benefit from a fresh perspective? ✅
A new bio that will make strangers think you’re interesting? ✅
A menu for your new pizza parlor? 🍕
A ransom note that needs a strong call to action 🚫
If it’s legal and if it falls under the heading of writing / storytelling, I can help. Email me at michael.j.estrin@gmail.com.
More Michael Estrin stories? Two books!Ride/Share: Micro Stories of Soul, Wit and Wisdom from the Backseat is a collection of my Lyft driver stories🚗🗣
Not Safe for Work is a slacker noir novel based on my experiences covering the adult entertainment industry💋🍑🍆🕵️♂️
The ebook versions of my books are priced between 99 cents and $2.99, so if you don’t have the budget for a Situation Normal subscription, buying an ebook is a great way to support my work. Bonus: you’ll laugh your butt off!
Stick around and chat!You know the drill. I’ve got questions, you’ve got answers.
Are you team one-day work week, or are you part of the problem? Confess!
Imagine that the six-day weekend is a thing. What would your life look like? Go big!
Back in the 1930s, economist John Maynard Keynes predicted that advances in technology would make us so productive that very soon a 15-hour work week would be normal. That was before the digital revolution and the AI revolution. What the hell happened?
How do you treat a case of the Mondays? Asking for me.
Atmospheric rivers are bullshit, right?
Mortimer has a case of the Mondays. He says the cure is a good donut.Remember, half of Situation Normal’s revenue goes to taxes, but the other half goes to donuts for me and Mortimer🐶🍩
February 18, 2024
Telemarketer-in-chief
The telemarketer says he’s looking for Martha.
“Martha Washington?” I ask.
“No, Martha Ramos.”
“That’s her maiden name. She married me and became a Washington.”
“And who are you?”
“George,” I say. “I’m George Washington.”
“Well, is Martha there?”
“Yes, but she’s quite busy brushing my wooden teeth at the moment.”
“Well, I'm calling to offer her a great deal on a mortgage refi.”
“Mortgage?”
“Yes, I see that she owns a property in Los Angeles.”
“Actually, it’s Mount Vernon, Virginia.”
“My mistake.”
“I’ll say.”
“Do you happen to know what your current interest rate is, George?”
“I don’t. Martha handled all the finances while I was away at war.”
“Are you a veteran, George?”
“Yes.”
“Well, first I’d like to thank you for your service. And second, I’d like to let you know that there are special programs for veterans.”
“My service is hardly worth mentioning. Martha bore the real brunt of my deployment.”
“I hear you. It must be tough to deploy overseas.”
“Overseas? Try spending a winter in Pennsylvania. My wooden teeth would not stop chattering. But I can’t complain. I lost a lot of good friends to typhoid and dysentery. We also ran out of food. I ended up eating my horse, which isn’t easy to do with wooden teeth.”
“Sir...”
“Yes.”
“I think you’re joking. I know you’re not George Washington.”
“You got me,” I sigh. “I cannot tell a lie. But I would like to talk about a refi, if that’s still on the table.”
“Great. What’s your real name? Let’s start with that.”
“Alex Hamilton.”
“And what do you do for a living, Mr. Hamilton?”
“I used to work in finance, but these days it’s all musical theater all the time.”
👇
Save a few bucks & support Situation Normal!In honor of Presidents’ Day, I’m discounting subscriptions to Situation Normal by 31%. Why 31%, you ask? Because anything more would break the bank, and anything less would be downright unAmerican. Also, I chose 31% in honor of William Henry Harrison, an American President most people have never heard of. Why? Because Harrison, who endured a cold, rainy Inauguration Day without a hat or a coat, died in office 31 days later. The cause: a cold! If that’s not absurd, I don’t know what is. But if you want 31 percent off—one percentage point for each day of Harrison’s sickly administration—CLICK HERE AND CLAIM YOUR PRESIDENTIAL DISCOUNT.
Situation Normal recommendsI love eavesdropping. I’d call it a guilty pleasure, but I don’t feel guilty about spying on strangers, so it’s just pleasure. Speaking of pleasure (and eavesdropping), I loved this story from about listening in on two strangers on a first date. Check it out here.
Did you know you can hire me?True story! I’m an award-winning journalist (B2B & B2C, print & digital), an op-ed ghostwriter who has helped hundreds of start-ups tell their stories, and a versatile copywriter who kicks ass and triple-checks the spelling of names. My bona fides are on LinkedIn. I recently launched Thought Partner to talk more about how companies and individuals can use thought leadership to make themselves heard over the noise. Maybe my services are what you’ve been looking for, or maybe there’s something else I can help with, such as:
Fresh website copy that makes your professional story sing? ✅
An editorial plan for your newsletter? ✅
A creative project that would benefit from a fresh perspective? ✅
A new bio that will make strangers think you’re interesting? ✅
A menu for your new pizza parlor? 🍕
A ransom note that needs a strong call to action 🚫
If it’s legal and if it falls under the heading of writing / storytelling, I can help. Email me at michael.j.estrin@gmail.com.
More Michael Estrin stories? Two books!Ride/Share: Micro Stories of Soul, Wit and Wisdom from the Backseat is a collection of my Lyft driver stories🚗🗣
Not Safe for Work is a slacker noir novel based on my experiences covering the adult entertainment industry💋🍑🍆🕵️♂️
The ebook versions of my books are priced between 99 cents and $2.99, so if you don’t have the budget for a Situation Normal subscription, buying an ebook is a great way to support my work. Bonus: you’ll laugh your butt off!
Stick around and chat!You know the drill. I’ve got questions, you’ve got answers.
Who’s your favorite American President, and why is it Chester A. Arthur? Go deep (state)!
Why didn’t William Henry Harrison wear a coat and hat? Wrong answers only!
Has anyone ever bought anything from telemarketer? Explain!
Who made the mattress industry king of Presidents’ Day deals?
Any plans for the three-day weekend? Also, shouldn’t all weekends be three days?
Mortimer says he’d make a great mattress salesman, and to prove it, he got into our bed and told me to take this photo.Before you go…Make sure you’re subscribed, so you never miss Situation Normal👇
February 11, 2024
We're doomed, says the barista
I ask the barista how it’s going.
“Honestly?” he asks.
“If you feel like telling the truth,” I say. “Or, you can lie to me. I won’t know the difference.”
The barista lets out a heavy sigh.
“I have this overwhelming sense of doom.”
“Yikes! Have you thought about switching to decaf?”
“I haven't had any coffee in months,” he says.
“So this is real doom shit?”
“This is real doom shit,” the barista confirms.
“Is it politics?” I probe. “Politics can mess anyone up.”
“No, it’s bigger than politics.”
“Personal tragedy?”
“Nah, life is fine. Except, you know, for the doom.”
“This isn’t a sports thing, is it? I bleed Dodger blue. I’m a member of Raider Nation. Point is, I know losing. I know it well. But there’s always next season.”
“No, no, I don’t even like sports.”
“Maybe that’s the problem. Have you thought about following Formula One, or playing pickleball?”
“I think human civilization is in decline. That’s the doom.”
“Like we’re heading for the apocalypse?”
“Maybe,” the barista says. “But not like an end of the world kind of thing, more like a steady erosion of civilization.”
“So… more Mad Max than Road Warrior?”
People forgot that in the first film of the Mad Max franchise, civilization is still there, hanging on by a thread, but nevertheless hanging on, thanks to people like Max, who was a cop before he went mad. I want to explain this, but the barista shakes his head.
“It’s more like everything that’s good and decent in the world doesn’t matter anymore because it’s all just a self-involved shit-show.”
Now, I see. This isn’t a Mad Max situation, it’s a Walter Sobchak situation.
“If it helps, I’m pretty sure the human condition has been a self-involved shit-show since the very beginning.”
“I don’t know if that helps,” the barista says.
“Well, look at it this way. That self-involved shit-show got us this far. A thousand years ago, you and I wouldn’t be chatting in some coffee house, we’d be serving some dipshit king in some bullshit war, or breaking our backs in field we don’t own to make gruel that doesn’t taste very good. Or we’d be dead, because let’s face it, you and I are men of a certain age, and in the previous age, we’d be old as fuck, but now we’re mid-forties, which is the new late-thirties. Plus, we have organic coffee and vegan chocolate chip cookies that you and I both know from experience taste better than the regular chocolate cookies, and that mind-bender somehow tricks you into thinking that the better cookie is the guilt-free cookie, even though we both know damn well that there’s no such thing as a guilt-free cookie, there just isn’t.”
“See, that’s the problem,” the barista says. “If this is the height of what we can do as a civilization, we’re doomed. And yeah, the vegan cookies are great, but people are still dying in bullshit wars, working themselves to death, killing the planet... it’s all just so depressing.”
It is depressing. I can’t argue with that. Actually, that’s not true. I can argue with that. I was, just now, arguing with that. I often argue with that. Daily, in fact. Sometimes I think the mere act of getting out of bed and confronting the world is an argument with that. With a little luck, grit, and love, I will continue to argue with that until the day I die.
But right now I need a break from arguing.
I need a coffee.
And a vegan chocolate chip cookie.
Unfortunately, I left my wallet, the one that says bad motherfucker, at home. So I tell the barista to cancel my order.
“No worries, man, I got you. One coffee, one vegan chocolate chip cookie coming up.”
“Thanks. I’ll get you back next time.”
The barista nods. He still thinks we’re doomed, still thinks the human condition is a self-involved shit-show. Maybe he’s right about that, but the complimentary coffee and cookie say otherwise.
Share this with your friends and they might invite you to go get a cup of coffee and a cookie. Give it a try🍪☕️👇
Did you know you can hire me?True story! I’m an award-winning journalist (B2B & B2C, print & digital), an op-ed ghostwriter who has helped hundreds of start-ups tell their stories, and a versatile copywriter who kicks ass and triple-checks the spelling of names. My bona fides are on LinkedIn. I recently launched Thought Partner to talk more about how companies and individuals can use thought leadership to make themselves heard over the noise. Maybe my services are what you’ve been looking for, or maybe there’s something else I can help with, such as:
Fresh website copy that makes your professional story sing? ✅
An editorial plan for your newsletter? ✅
A creative project that would benefit from a fresh perspective? ✅
A new bio that will make strangers think you’re interesting? ✅
A menu for your new pizza parlor? 🍕
A ransom note that needs a strong call to action 🚫
If it’s legal and if it falls under the heading of writing / storytelling, I can help. Email me at michael.j.estrin@gmail.com.
Situation Normal recommendsRegular readers know that I’m I play a game called Music League, which gives me life, even though I usually lose. This week, the theme was sports training montage songs. I went with Centerfield by John Fogerty, but I lost to a friend who picked Eminem’s Lose Yourself. Then, almost as if she was trying to add insult to injury, did a deep dive on Eminem’s notes. It’s a really good piece, and you should totally read it here.
More Michael Estrin stories? Two books!Ride/Share: Micro Stories of Soul, Wit and Wisdom from the Backseat is a collection of my Lyft driver stories🚗🗣
Not Safe for Work is a slacker noir novel based on my experiences covering the adult entertainment industry💋🍑🍆🕵️♂️
The ebook versions of my books are priced between 99 cents and $2.99, so if you don’t have the budget for a Situation Normal subscription, buying an ebook is a great way to support my work. Bonus: you’ll laugh your butt off!
Stick around and chat!You know the drill. I’ve got questions, you’ve got answers.
Are we doomed? Give it to me straight.
What was the last cookie you ate? Look to the cookie!
Centerfield by John Fogerty is a banger, right? Lie to me, if you must.
Why does everyone forget about the original Mad Max, which depicts a world that could’ve been saved, if only more people had joined Max in standing up for the rule of law?
Walter Sobchak isn’t wrong, he’s just an asshole. Discuss!
People who love Situation Normal help keep it going!With the exception of the annual stakeholder report, every Situation Normal story is free. Paying subscribers help me bring joy to 4,500 people every week. Join the situation normie movement with PayPal by sending any amount here, or you can👇
Mortimer fights doom by ensconcing himself in pillows
February 7, 2024
Episode 11: The Super Bowl Shuffle (and other sound ideas)
Hello and welcome to episode eleven of the Situation Normal podcast! The podcast has the same vibe as the newsletter, but instead of reading, you listen to me tell stories to my friend Todd.
In this episode, we’re talking football in honor of America’s favorite holiday—Super Bowl Sunday. I tell Todd about Christina’s brilliant, outside-the-box idea to make football more entertaining to people who don’t give a shit about football. Then we talk about the time my dad changed the way we watch football on TV. It’s a super episode!
Listen on Substack, or click here to listen wherever you listen to podcasts.
Also, for the love of boneless chicken wings and nachos, please rate & review this podcast if you listen on Apple, Spotify, or any of those places. THANKS!
Quick programming note:
After 11 episodes, the Situation Normal podcast is going on hiatus. That’s Latin for a break of an undetermined time. The show will come back, because I love doing it. But I don’t know when. I’ve got a few things in my life that need to take priority. This will be the last episode for a bit. Thanks for understanding.
Time to discuss👇Who are you rooting for? The Chiefs? The 49ers? Taylor Swift? Pizza?
If you’re not gonna watch the Super Bowl, what are you doing Sunday?
Kickers are easy scapegoats, right?
What toppings were on your last pizza?
February 4, 2024
According to Facebook, I served in 'Nam?
Hello & welcome to the shit! I’m Michael Estrin and I write Situation Normal because laughing is better than crying.
Speaking of crying, last Sunday’s post about tech support needing tech support proves that several situation normies share my feelings about printers. As wrote: “Printers defeat me. I actually broke mine when I was trying to change the ink. Tore the tip right off. Anger may have been involved.” This comment made me feel seen, and I think this GIF makes anyone who has ever tangled with a printer feel seen.
Thankfully, my podcast about serving on 1.5 juries is free of technical difficulties, but that’s because I have Todd, a production Swiss Army knife.
On another thankful note, sent me money via PayPay. Helen included a note: “Kudos from a fellow Substacker! sent me. Rock on!” OK, Helen, I’ll rock on. But before I rock, I need to salute you because contributions like this help keep Situation Normal going.
People who love Situation Normal help keep it going!If PayPal is your thing, send any amount here, and I’ll add you to the list! Or, you can upgrade to a paid subscription here👇
With the exception of the annual stakeholder report, every Situation Normal story is free. Paying subscribers help me bring joy to 4,500 people every week👇
Did you know you can hire me?True story! I’m an award-winning journalist (B2B & B2C, print & digital), an op-ed ghostwriter who has helped hundreds of start-ups tell their stories, and a versatile copywriter who kicks ass and triple-checks the spelling of names. My bona fides are on LinkedIn. I recently launched Thought Partner to talk more about how companies and individuals can use thought leadership to make themselves heard over the noise. Maybe my services are what you’ve been looking for, or maybe there’s something else I can help with, such as:
Fresh website copy that makes your professional story sing? ✅
An editorial plan for your newsletter? ✅
A creative project that would benefit from a fresh perspective? ✅
A new bio that will make strangers think you’re interesting? ✅
A menu for your new pizza parlor? 🍕
A ransom note that needs a strong call to action 🚫
If it’s legal and if it falls under the heading of writing / storytelling, I can help. Email me at michael.j.estrin@gmail.com.
According to Facebook, I served in 'Nam?I was born two years after the Vietnam War ended, but Facebook thinks I was in the shit. I’m not kidding. Suggested posts for pages dedicated to veterans of the Vietnam War dominate my feed. Here’s a sample of what I see every time I log onto the Book of Face:
What’s going on with my Facebook feed? Why am I seeing nostalgia posts for a war that ended before I was born?
“It’s because Facebook knows you’re into history,” Christina said. “You’re always reading a history book.”
True! I am a history buff. I’m always reading a history book. But I haven’t read a book about the Vietnam War since A Bright Shining Lie: John Paul Vann and America in Vietnam by Neil Sheehan. I read that book when I was in college, and I graduated from Wesleyan five years before Facebook was founded.
“Maybe it’s your taste in music,” Christina said. “Whenever I look at your Spotify, I get major Boomer vibes, babe.”
Also true! I love The Doors, The Rolling Stones, and Creedence Clearwater Revival. But those groups weren’t the soundtrack to my war, because I didn’t fight in Vietnam, and I didn’t serve in the military.
“It’s probably just data mining run amok,” Christina said.
Plausible! We pay for Spotify, but instead of sharing that money with musicians, Spotify invests its revenue in advertising technology so that it can sell my data to Facebook. Inferring that someone with playlists that include Fortunate Son and Paint It Black might have served in Vietnam is exactly the kind of nonsensical guesswork that fuels the algorithm.
“Plus, you watch Vietnam War movies,” Christina said. “So that’s two data points for Facebook to use: music and movies.”
Damn it, my wife was right. We pay the streamers to watch stuff, but that just means that they’re watching us so that they can sell our data to Facebook too.
I’m not bragging here, but I’ve seen every Vietnam War movie, from The Green Berets (jingoistic nonsense courtesy of John Wayne) to Tropic Thunder (Ben Stiller’s excellent parody of a sub-genre overrun with jingoistic nonsense). The best Vietnam War film is Apocalypse Now, but just like the war itself, the ending was a chaotic mess that we’re still puzzling over decades later. Personally, I think Stanley Kubrick nailed our obsession with war’s contradictions in Full Metal Jacket. But it’s not like I post Full Metal Jacket quotes on Facebook.
Pogue Colonel : Marine, what is that button on your body armor?
Private Joker : A peace symbol, sir.
Pogue Colonel : Where’d you get it?
Private Joker : I don’t remember, sir.
Pogue Colonel : What is that you’ve got written on your helmet?
Private Joker : “Born to Kill,” sir.
Pogue Colonel : You write “Born to Kill” on your helmet and you wear a peace button. What’s that supposed to be, some kind of sick joke?
Private Joker : No, sir.
Pogue Colonel : You’d better get your head and your ass wired together, or I will take a giant shit on you.
Private Joker : Yes, sir.
Pogue Colonel : Now answer my question or you’ll be standing tall before the man.
Private Joker : I think I was trying to suggest something about the duality of man, sir.
Pogue Colonel : The what?
Private Joker : The duality of man. The Jungian thing, sir.
For the record, I Googled this Full Metal Jacket quote. Google pointed me to IMDB, where I copied the quote and pasted it here. I did that to illustrate my point, but as I type these words, it occurs to me that I’m only adding fuel napalm to the fire (fight).
Google hoovers up more data than Spotify and Hollywood combined. To Google, my search for a Full Metal Jacket quote is a business opportunity. Right now, those loose-lipped Googlers are telling Spotify to Gimme Shelter. When Amazon Prime Video asks for help finding people who are Missing in Action, Google tells them about me. But Facebook knows I wasn’t Born on The Fourth of July.
A feed overrun with suggested posts for pages dedicated to veterans of the Vietnam War is weird for me. But for Facebook it’s embarrassing. Birthdays are their thing. Sure, Facebook is part of Meta, an advertising company valued at $1 trillion. Advertisers pay Facebook to target us with ads for crap made by companies that don’t have the budget to advertise on TV.
In theory, every time we click on ads for subscription taco services, liver detox cures, and courses that promise to teach us the secret to starting a six-figure side hustle that involves staking AI dogs in online poker tournaments, a marketing guru gets their wings. But in practice, these so-called signals are just more noise in a sea of noise. If you use Facebook on your phone, you didn’t click on the ad, at least not on purpose. The ads just get in the way because the phone screen is small and your thumbs are big. If you use Facebook on your desktop, you’re a dinosaur who can’t be monetized. Facebook knows this, but the greatest trick the Zuck ever pulled was convincing advertisers that we’re engaging with their content.
If I’m being honest, that’s probably where my Vietnam content quagmire began. Even though Facebook knew I was too young to have been in the shit, it got what it thought was some good intel from Spotify and Amazon Prime, via Google. Knowing that the only way to find out is to fuck around, Facebook served me a suggested page for Vietnam War veterans. Maybe I thought the picture was for a Vietnam War movie I hadn’t seen, or maybe I was just lost in a Purple Haze, but for some damn reason, I clicked on the post. Ever since then, it’s been Good Morning, Vietnam on my Facebook feed, even though everyone on Facebook knows We Gotta Get Out of This Place.
Thank you for reading Situation Normal! It helps me a lot if you share this post, even if you share it on Facebook.
Situation Normal recommendsThis week, I want to point you to a very funny piece in The New Yorker: “Surprise—You’re Now Subscribed to My Substack!” by Annabelle Gurwitch. I laughed my butt off, and you will too.
More Michael Estrin stories? Two books!Ride/Share: Micro Stories of Soul, Wit and Wisdom from the Backseat is a collection of my Lyft driver stories🚗🗣
Not Safe for Work is a slacker noir novel based on my experiences covering the adult entertainment industry💋🍑🍆🕵️♂️
The ebook versions of my books are priced between 99 cents and $2.99, so if you don’t have the budget for a Situation Normal subscription, buying an ebook is a great way to support my work. Bonus: you’ll laugh your butt off!
Stick around and chat?You know the drill. I’ve got questions, you’ve got answers.
After reading this piece, you understand that I’m making fun of Facebook, not Vietnam veterans, right?
What weird, irrelevant content dominates your Facebook feed? Dish.
What’s the best Vietnam War movie ever made and why is it Full Metal Jacket? Get into the shit!
If it wasn’t for birthdays, Facebook would’ve gone out of business a long time ago, right?
The Doors, The Rolling Stones, or CCR? You can only choose one, choose wisely!
January 31, 2024
Episode 10: Doing my civic doody
Hello and welcome to episode ten of the Situation Normal podcast! The podcast has the same vibe as the newsletter, but instead of reading, you listen to me tell stories to my friend Todd.
In this episode, I tell Todd about serving on 1.5 juries. This episode is the follow-up to a piece I recently wrote about wasting two days of my life on jury duty. On the one hand, jury duty is a miserable experience that any sane person should avoid. But on the other hand, it might just be the best thing this country has going for it, at least as far as the rule of law is concerned.
LISTEN TO THE SITUATION NORMAL PODCAST HEREThen do me a huge favor (🙏🙏🙏) by leaving a rating or review on your favorite podcast app.
Also, tell your friends, family, and mortal enemies, so that I can dethrone those smug bastards at NPR.
January 28, 2024
Your tech support needs tech support
Hello and welcome! I’m Michael Estrin. I write Situation Normal for people who take their humor with a side of humanity and a dash of insight. (Read to the end for a picture of my writing partner, Mortimer🐶)
Shout out timeA big thank you to the newest paid supporter at Situation Normal. Thank you to Mary T, who sent her moolah via PayPal!
If PayPal is your thing, send any amount here, and I’ll add you to the list! Or, you can upgrade to a paid subscription here👇
Remember, Situation Normal is free (except for the last post of the year). My labor and the support of generous readers who love Situation Normal keep this thing of ours going. Thank you!
Your tech support needs tech support
Sometimes I tease Christina that I married for tech support. That’s not true, I married for love, but tech support is a nice perk.
I’ve never met a computer I couldn’t crash, or a printer I couldn’t jam. My battles with the Alexa are the stuff of legend. I’m not proud of this, but there are times when I can’t even watch television because we own one of those “Smart TVs,” which means the television knows I’m a Luddite it can fuck with for shits and giggles.
“It’s like there’s a dark cloud following you around,” Christina told me once. “You get near tech and things go kaflooey.”
In a world dominated by tech, this is a bad a look for a human. Most people celebrate when new technology comes out, which means most people celebrate four million times a day. But not me. Everyday, there are four million new things that can go wrong for me.
Ideally, I’d live in a perpetual state called 1998, when phones were dumb and tethered to walls, when my CDs always worked, and when it was socially acceptable to tell your professor that you couldn’t turn in the assignment because your computer took a massive shit.
But that’s a fantasy. There’s no going back. Humanity strapped itself to a rocket ship called technology thousands of years ago, when some asshole ape picked up a rock and used it to smash open a coconut. The rocket ship is accelerating, but there’s no telling where it’s headed, or if we’ll survive the trip. That doesn’t matter, though. It’s 2024, and if you’re not strapped in and geeked out over tech, you’re fucked.
I’d be fucked, if it wasn’t for Christina.
I can never repay my wife for all the times she’s unfucked our thermostat, fixed a glitchy app on my phone, or trouble shot a piece of software that was advertised as an “easy button” for some task. The best I can do is land a job as a beta tester at a technology company. My pitch to Silicon Valley is simple: if you can get it to work for me, it can work for anyone.
That job might be another fantasy, though. Silicon Valley prefers to beta test its stuff on hapless consumers who pay for the privilege of their Guinea pig pig status with their personal data. Also, I might not be qualified to be a professional Guinea pig, at least if you ask my friend Jane.
Jane is a wonderful writer. Her newsletter, Beyond, features interviews with big-ass literary names like Elizabeth Gilbert, Cheryl Strayed, and George Saunders. In an analog world, Jane would be hobnobbing with the literati, her name would be on some prestigious short-list, and her work would be in bookstores. In that same analog world, I’d be writing Situation Normal for a daily newspaper in exchange for a salary, healthcare, and a sweet retirement package.
But the analog world is dead. We live in a digital world, and somehow the internet gods—in their finite wisdom—connected me and Jane. Which is great! That’s the win.
In theory, all of this tech is supposed to make things easier for people like Jane and me. And when the tech works, it is easier! Because there’s no way I could print 4,500 copies of Situation Normal and mail them out every Sunday. My desktop publishing program would shit the bed, and after Christina unfucks that mess, the printer would jam. But the same tech that helps us reach our readers, also fucks with us on the regular.
Whenever the tech fucks with me, I call Christina. But whenever the tech fucks with Jane, she calls me. Over Christmas, I helped Jane unfuck a situation with an AI transcription tool so that she could get a clean transcript of one of her interviews. Jane called my tech skills “brilliant,” which struck me as absurd. Christina had a more realistic take: “It’s a Christmas miracle.”
The other night, the same AI tool went on the fritz. Jane called her tech support aka me. I promised Jane I’d help to the best of my ability, but we both knew that my abilities are as limited as the warranties on our phones.
I’ll spare you the details, but after thirty minutes of futzing with the AI, I couldn’t get it to work. That was the bad news. The good news was that I was able to replicate Jane’s issue.
“It’s not you,” I said. “There’s a bug.”
I didn’t tell Jane I was using the word “bug” to sound professional. I’m in no position to use the word bug the way tech people use it. For them, a bug is an issue to fix. For me, a bug is both an insect and an omnipresent reality of digital life. But I didn’t want to leave Jane hanging, so I suggested a workaround.
“Use your old transcription tool,” I suggested. “It’s not as buggy.”
Jane sighed. The old tool wasn’t as buggy, but its transcription was shit. In other words, it would probably work, but it definitely meant more work for Jane.
Ugh.
Jane told me she appreciated my help, but I felt bad.
“Tech support is supposed to solve the problem,” I told Christina later that night. “All I did was confirm that there is a problem.”
“That’s something,” Christina offered. “In the land of the blind, the one-eyed man is king.”
If you can get it the tech to work, please share Situation Normal👇
Situation Normal recommends This week, I’m recommending Jane Ratcliffe’s essay “Lullaby.” Here’s a snippet from Jane about the origins of this fantastic piece:
I’m sharing an essay that ran in The Huffington Post about getting divorced when I was still very much in love with my husband. I originally wrote the essay for the Up Front section of Vogue. It moved up through all the editors from whom I received beautiful, tearful praise. And then it hit the desk of Anna Wintour who was going through a divorce of her own and did not care for my still-in-love take on things. She killed it.
Read Jane’s essay here.
More Michael Estrin stories? Two books!Ride/Share: Micro Stories of Soul, Wit and Wisdom from the Backseat is a collection of my Lyft driver stories🚗🗣
Not Safe for Work is a slacker noir novel based on my experiences covering the adult entertainment industry💋🍑🍆🕵️♂️
The ebook versions of my books are priced between 99 cents and $2.99, so if you don’t have the budget for a Situation Normal subscription, buying an ebook is a great way to support my work. Bonus: you’ll laugh your butt off!
Stick around and chatYou know the drill. I’ve got questions, you’ve got answers.
The easy button was always a lie, right?
If there was a button that turned off the internet, would you press it? Be honest!
Why do printers suck so much, and do the engineers who make printers feel shame?
Am I the only one who misses CDs?
If the machines make us so efficient that we don’t need as many people to do the job, why aren’t there more people available to provide tech support when the machines shit the bed?
Last thing…If you’re new here, make sure you’re subscribed👇
Mortimer chilling on the couch while watching the new season of True Detective on our “smart” TV
